


Dethroned

by FirstDraft



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17198345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirstDraft/pseuds/FirstDraft
Summary: S1 AU: the Discovery crew celebrates the end of the Klingon War, and it brings an emotional reckoning for Michael and Lorca.





	1. The Party

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [uss_archangel_endofyear_2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/uss_archangel_endofyear_2018) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> December 28th: The Discovery crew celebrates the end of the war.
> 
> This story has been written to fit within an AU that I hope to bring about sometime - namely, one where everything is the same except that Captain Gabriel Lorca was never from the MU. I loved most of s1 of Disco but was hugely disappointed by the turn it took when they travelled to the MU, especially the writers' rubbish attempt at turning Lorca into a villain. It is my contention that you could have run with the same themes and ideas without the ridiculousness of Trump!Lorca. Anyway: in this as-yet-unwritten AU, Michael and Lorca were very close, he was going to blow up Kronos to avenge the Buran and so on, but she talked him back from that ledge.
> 
> Very special thanks to makimurakaori for hand-holding and beta-reading.
> 
> “Secrets, silent, stony sit in the dark palaces of both our hearts: secrets weary of their tyranny: tyrants willing to be dethroned.” - James Joyce

I. The Party

Michael’s mother was a lovely woman. She was attractive, with long dark hair elaborately braided and a warm, genuine smile, but she was mostly and simply lovely, her personality as warm and genuine as her smile. Lorca caught a glimpse of her husband over her shoulders and wondered how on Earth - or Vulcan - that stiff and almost gangly pole had managed to win himself such a great wife. He had been surprised when she had approached him and introduced herself but he was glad she had: feeling out of place, he had been hovering near the buffet, pretending to struggle between prawns or cheese canapes, and getting close to giving up and making an escape. Only shame had kept him there this long - shame of his own cowardice, shame at the thought of disappointing Burnham again. He could feel her eyes on him from time to time, often met hers when he looked for her in turn. She always gave him the tiniest of smile so he knew she wanted him there. He had no idea why and tried not to think about it, because whenever he did the shame was there again, this time because he was so utterly glad she did. Because it made him want to run away from there even more, with her, to somewhere dark and quiet.

“I think I may have finally worn you down, Captain.” 

Lorca blinked, realised he had let his mind wander. It often did that when he thought about Burnham. “I’m sorry - you haven’t, Lady Amanda.. I think I just bored myself.”

Lady Amanda laughed. “I know the feeling. I have too many years as an Ambassador’s wife. Small talk’s become horrifically easy.”

“Whatever gets you through the evening,” he replied, raising his glass to her and gulping down its content. “If it makes you feel any better, you’re really good at it. It doesn’t feel at all like small talk. It’s quite the talent.”

“Captain Lorca, are you flirting with me?” She was grinning and squeezing his forearm before he could blurt out an apology. “I am sorry, Captain - I was only teasing. It just reminded me of Sarek’s marriage proposal.”

“That romantic, was it?”

“It was sincere. I didn’t need anything more.”

“And what talent of his got you to say yes?” No sooner had the words come out of his mouth that he realised what his question could insinuate, and if the very slight and charming reddening of her cheeks was anything to go by, so did Lady Amanda. She didn’t, however, seem to be offended.

“His sense of humour.” 

Lorca found himself smiling sincerely for the first time that evening. Maybe it was that famous Vulcan telepathy, but as Lady Amanda turned her head slightly to look at her husband, Sarek’s gaze moved from the person talking to him towards his wife. His expression didn’t change but hers certainly did. He had to be downright hilarious, if the tenderness that came into her eyes was anything to go by. The Vulcan excused himself from the conversation he’d been involved in and joined them.

“Captain Lorca,” he greeted him. “I am glad to find you here. Starfleet has just confirmed to me that our request has been approved.”

And now Lorca felt his smile turn into a grin.

“Sarek? Does that mean Michael…?” Sarek nodded. Lady Amanda seemed to take in a deep breath. “That’s just… Wonderful. She’s going to be so pleased. Thank you, Captain - your testimony -.”

“I did nothing except tell the truth and urge them to right a terrible wrong. And believe me, Michael - “ He paused, a knot of emotion suddenly gripping his throat. How much had he had to drink? “She earned it. You got nothing to thank me for. On the other hand I got to thank your husband, because I wouldn’t have been able to put up with the top brass even looking like they might say no.”

“As you say, Captain, we were looking to make right an injustice. It was my privilege to do so.” He reached into a fold of his robes and brought out a Commander’s insignia. “I thought you might wish to return this to her.”

Lorca stared at the insignia for a moment. So much of him wanted to. Wanted to be the one to bring her joy. He was a selfish asshole like that. But he knew that there was a greater joy for her to be had. “I do. But I think it best if you do it. She knows what I think of her, what I think she deserves.” Even if only a small part of it. “She needs to know that’s what you think, too, Ambassador.”

It was just as well that Lorca had a high tolerance for awkwardness: it had served him well in his dealings with Sylvia Tilly and now it meant that he was quite able to hold Sarek’s silent stare. And for all her chattiness, Lady Amanda was also clearly used to Vulcan silences, and she stood waiting by her husband without saying a word - although her eyes again said plenty, at least to Lorca.

“That is possible,” Sarek agreed at last, returning the insignia to his robes. “There is one more thing, Captain. Starfleet made a request of me as well: that I should convince you to retain your commission.”

“You are leaving Starfleet?” 

Lorca sighed, slightly irritated that Sarek would bring that up there and now. He didn’t want to keep it a secret, but he wasn’t entirely prepared for the world to know yet. Or his crew. It would make it real, once they knew.

“I am,” he replied to Lady Amanda. It was obvious she desperately wanted to ask him why, which he found a little odd since they did not know each other and she didn’t come across as a gossip. 

They exchanged good-byes, Lorca confirming the time they were expecting Sarek to board Discovery for his return trip to Vulcan, where they were going to pick up a new medical officer. He watched the couple join Michael’s side, and then the three of them heading out. He hesitated only briefly before following them - he should really leave her to this moment, but if he couldn’t be the one to make her happy, he could at least watch her be happy.

He really was a selfish asshole.


	2. Parting Words

II. Parting Words

It often took her parents longer than most people to leave any gathering: there was always one more person that just had one more thing to discuss with Sarek, and Amanda was equally in demand, even if the reasons were not the same as Sarek’s. She was liked wherever she went, even on Vulcan, and even if it had taken nigh on 30 years for her to do so. With Captain Lorca, it had taken a lot less time and Michael was glad that she had asked Amanda to speak to him. She knew without a doubt that he did not want to be at this party and probably for the same reasons she didn’t, either. Would either of them ever feel like they belonged in Starfleet again?

He had sworn to her he would get her pardoned and that if he couldn’t, he would still not let her return to prison. He hadn’t explained precisely what that would mean, but she could guess. Michael should have protested, should have reminded him she wasn’t the kind to run from her mistakes but she hadn’t. Because he meant it, because she knew without a doubt he would keep his promise, and it didn’t matter how wrong it was, she wanted him to. She had once thought she would never know peace again so it was a shock to realise she could. Be happy, even. Fear had soon followed that realisation, fear of losing it all again, something she had not felt for a very, very long time. 

When Michael looked back on her years with Philippa Georgiou and the months in prison that had followed, it was as though she was looking at a different person altogether. The numbness she remembered from those times now felt like a kind of death. How else could she explain how alive she felt now? And how could she possibly ever wish to return to that? She wasn’t going to not feel again. So Michael was happy to wait for her parents and stare at the lights of Paris sparkling and shimmering around her, glinting off wet sidewalks. If you closed your eyes a little bit, you could pretend to be walking among the stars. The night air was wonderfully cool, lighter than that of Qo’nos, so much gentler than Vulcan’s. She had spent very little time on Earth that she could remember, but her body seemed to know it was home, somewhere deep down. 

Well, she _was _human, after all...__

__Michael felt a light touch on her shoulder and turned to find Amanda by her side._ _

__“Isik for your thoughts?”_ _

__Michael smiled at the familiar question. “I don’t think that’ll be enough for all of them, I’m afraid.”_ _

__Amanda reached for her cheek and gave it a gentle stroke. “Is everything okay?”_ _

__No, not everything. But Michael could tell her truthfully that a great deal was. “When I was growing up, you told me not to forget my humanity. I didn’t know what that meant. I didn’t know how to do it. I didn’t even know why I would want to. I get it now. So, thank you. For not giving up on me.”_ _

__She reached for her shoulders again, giving them a tight squeeze. “That’s what mothers do.” Her eyes sparkled, too now and she reached for Michael’s hands. “So, Captain Lorca. Rather forthright.”_ _

__“Please tell me he wasn’t rude to you. He’s a good man, really -”_ _

__“He was perfectly polite. He just didn’t want to be there, did he?” Michael shook her head. “And how do you feel about his leaving Starfleet?”_ _

__Michael stared at her mother. “Captain Lorca… is leaving Starfleet?”_ _

__Amanda looked dismayed now. “Michael - I’m so sorry. You didn’t know?”_ _

__She was shaking her head again. “I did not. How… Why? Why would he -” He had promised. Sworn. And now he was leaving? Leaving… her?_ _

__“You two are close. Aren’t you?”_ _

__Laughter, possibly tears, died in her throat. “He’s done so much for me, Mother. He’s - he’s saved my life - in so many ways -”_ _

__“And you’ve done the same for him, I would guess.” Michael looked back up to Amanda. Her mother was watching her with shrewd but compassionate eyes. “I would also guess that it is all pretty complicated. But Michael, tonight I saw you both… When there is only one person you ever look for in a room, it’s also quite simple.”_ _

__Sarek’s shadow suddenly loomed over them and, out of habit, Michael stood away from Amanda, her arms going round to her back._ _

__“Michael.”_ _

__“Father.”_ _

__Her mother looked frustrated by Sarek’s interruption and torn with indecision. It was short-lived, however, and she cupped Michael’s face in her hands. “You know, selfishness is a very human trait. Promise me you’ll try that next?”_ _

__Sarek rose a questioning eyebrow at his wife, but Michael simply nodded, even though she didn’t really understand what Amanda was telling her. She left one last, tender kiss on Michael’s cheek. “I’ll wait for you in the car, Sarek.”_ _

__For all that she had got quite far down the road back to her own humanity, Michael was struggling with the maelstrom of emotions Amanda’s’ words had unleashed. Sarek’s invitation to take a few steps with him was something of a relief, his Vulcan presence soothing, a kind of anchor that allowed her to put a damper on her feelings again._ _

__“What the Federation chose to do on Qo’nos was unprincipled,” Sarek started, “and I had a part in it.”_ _

__She gave him a startled look. He was right, but she knew he would never have gone along with it if it had seemed illogical or unethical to him. “The Klingons made it clear they would fight us to extinction. You were desperate to save us. I know the feeling all too well.”_ _

__Sarek shook his head. “And yet… _You _were able to find another way.” He paused, turned to face her. “I am not alone in finding your commitment to Starfleet’s ideals commendable.” He brought his hands out from behind his back: there was a small box in them. “Captain Lorca gave me the privilege to give this to you. Your record has been expunged. Your pardon by the president of the Federation is official.” She watched him open the box and remove a Starfleet insignia. “Commander Burnham,” he continued, placing it on her chest, “the Federation is as grateful to you as I am… to my daughter.”___ _

____There it was again. The erratic beating of her heart, the shortness of breath. How odd that distress and happiness could look so much the same._ _ _ _

____“That is not all. Starfleet is also awarding you and the bridge crew of Discovery the Medal of Honor. The ceremony will take place the day after tomorrow. It will be my and your mother’s honour to see you there.”_ _ _ _

____She was struggling to articulate any kind of appropriate answer to such news but thinking of Tilly, Saru and Stamets and all the others promptly reminded her of Amanda’s news. “What reasons did Captain Lorca give for his resignation, Father?”_ _ _ _

____Sarek seemed unsurprised by her question. “Unfortunately, that is not information I am privy to. I suspect, however, that you would know better than I in any case - or indeed Starfleet.”_ _ _ _

____“I… I am not sure.”_ _ _ _

____“Then perhaps you should ask him,” Sarek suggested, tilting his head to his right. Michael looked and caught Lorca watching them, near the entrance to Federation Headquarters. Having been spotted, he nodded curtly at her and returned inside the building._ _ _ _


	3. Preemptive Strike

III. Preemptive Strike

Michael was naturally athletic and very fit, and still it took Lorca by surprise just how quickly she caught up with him. Maybe mindful of the people ambling through the lobby, she didn’t call for him, although the fact she was running had turned heads anyway. He felt her hand on his arm before he’d reached the top of the stairs back towards the room hosting the reception. She was a little out of breath from her sprint and her eyes glistened from unshed tears. She let go of him, suddenly conscious she had physically accosted a superior officer.

“Captain, may I -”

“That looks good on you, Burnham,” he cut her off, indicating her insignia.

She looked down at her chest then back up at him with a smile. “I didn’t know how much I missed it until I got it back. Thank you, sir -”

“Don’t you start. You earned it, you know that. More than earned it. There isn’t a single person in the Federation who doesn’t owe you something. Starting with me.”

“I didn’t do it all by myself. If it wasn’t for you, for Stamets and Tilly and -” She shook her head. “Even Ash, before…”

_Ash nearly killed you. _He bit down the words before they left his mouth. Ash was a complicated issue, he knew that, but when it came down to it, none of them had a clue exactly who he was then, even less now. Especially when he had decided to stay with L’Rell. To think he had been stupid enough to bring him onboard _Discovery _…____

____“Come on,” Lorca said, his voice gruff in his own ears. “You should tell the others, and then go out and have a real party, with real drinking.”_ _ _ _

____“When are you planning to tell them you’re resigning, sir? When were you planning to tell me?”_ _ _ _

____“Who did you hear this from?”_ _ _ _

____“My mother.”_ _ _ _

____So that’s why Sarek had brought it up in front of her. He would have known his wife would be likely to mention it to Michael, sparing him from active meddling. Vulcans had a reputation for truthfulness, but that clearly didn’t stop them from being devious bastards._ _ _ _

____“I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me first,” he replied, resuming his journey to the first floor._ _ _ _

____“Why? Why are you resigning, sir? Just when Starfleet needs experienced officers like you -”_ _ _ _

____He was going to miss it, that mix of respectful deference and forceful challenge. He was going to miss all of her. “Do I really have to explain it to you, Burnham? Weren’t you _there _?”___ _ _ _

______“You had the approval of Starfleet. More than approval - _orders _.”___ _ _ _ _ _

________Of course she wasn’t going to let it go. He could tell her to back off, that he didn’t want to talk about it, that it was none of her business - but he owed it to her not to. With one hand at her elbow, he directed her towards a small terrace that would have hosted their reception, if it wasn’t for the bad weather. She followed him around the pretty potted topiary and rows of lanterns to the far end of the terrace where she stood waiting for him to speak as he leaned on the railing, looking at the Seine river meandering below. There was still a very slight drizzle; it felt lovely and cool._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah, I could tell myself that,” Lorca said. “I was only following orders. But it was my idea, my plan. Or at least - my plan to use Emperor Georgiou’s plan. It was my decision to risk everything to get the weapons schematics when the only thing that mattered was returning _Discovery _safely to our universe.” He took a deep breath. “I was glad, you know. When we got back 9 months later than we should have done, and found the Federation on its knees. Because I _knew _there would be no time wasted debating the rights and wrongs of it all. There was no other choice left. In one strike we could end it all, and make damn well sure the Klingons would never bother us again. In fact, it’s quite possible it would have ensured peace with the Romulans, too, once they knew what the Federation was capable of in defending itself. We could carry on speaking softly because that’s who we are, but we’d also be carrying a big fucking stick.”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Michael crossed her arms, her frown deepening. “Or it could have started a race for ever bigger sticks. We talked about that. In almost the same exact words.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Ah, so you _were _there…”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She glared at him. “I don’t see the point of going over that. In the end, we didn’t go through with it. _You _didn’t go through with it.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I didn’t, no. But half the time I still think I was right.” It was hard but he made himself look at her. "Is that who you want as your captain? After everything?"_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael looked shocked, disappointed - as he expected her to. It hurt as much as he thought it might, too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________"Figured as much. And that's ok, by the way. It's as it should be. And I guess I don't want you looking at me like that, either, next time I disappoint you. Hell, I don't even want you looking at me like that right now."_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________It was the wrong place for this kind of conversation. The lanterns’ light was soft and warm, the potted trees around them sheltered them from the rest of the world, and they had a lot of Paris at their feet. That wasn't the only reason he wanted to kiss her, but it didn't help. Lorca gritted his teeth and looked away again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“What about the other half of the time, when you don’t? Your crew trusts you, Captain. With their _lives _. Time and again, you've shown us how much you're prepared to do for us, for the Federation. You CARE. And that is what the Federation needs more of.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He did care. _When it comes to you, Michael, a little too much. Careful what you wish for. _“Maybe. But it’s also exhausting. I’ve been caring a long time, Burnham. I'm tired. And peacetime doesn't need warmongers like me.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“You're not a warmonger,” Michael insisted. “You're a fighter. There's a difference -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Look,” he cut her off, growing desperate. “I won’t be a project of yours, another wounded soul to save. We all know how that turned out with Ash Tyler.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________He instantly regretted his words - he meant them (she needed to start worrying about herself before worrying about others) but had chosen badly. The weight of her stare was heavy, almost palpable. Or maybe he was just projecting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Michael said something in Vulcan as she turned on her heels - hissed it, almost - so he was pretty sure it wasn’t ‘live long and prosper.’_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________Probably Vulcan for asshole._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	4. Luminosity

IV. Luminosity

It took a while for Michael to regain control of her emotions but she was at least mostly able to keep them from showing on her face as she stood in the hallway near the reception room. She wanted to return to her hotel room, perhaps pound something in the gym she’d seen listed in the facilities, but the thirteenth message she had received from Tilly just as she was leaving the terrace kept her rooted there, her uniform the only thing stopping her from looking like a solicitous waitress just dying to fetch someone’s coat. Her friend was scatter-brained and socially awkward but also sharp as a tack and emotionally astute: she always seemed to know when anyone usually in her orbit was no longer there; in fact, Michael sometimes wondered if the younger woman had somehow micro-chipped all her friends. Although feeling calmer by the second, she still didn’t feel like braving the crowd, nor did she want to share the news about her reinstatement and the medal ceremony while surrounded by strangers. She checked the time to find the reception was about to come to an end; telling her friends in a suddenly busy hallway full of people trying to leave wouldn’t be ideal, either. She looked up the location of the nearest bar least likely to be full of Federation civil servants and messaged Tilly to meet her there with the rest of the bridge crew. 

She found La Divine Comédie in the Latin Quarter nearby and it was exactly as described by her search engine: a dark and busy student bar playing loud and discordant music, whose tables were laid out in concentric circles around the equally circular bar, whose extremely bright illuminated counter was almost the only source of light in the place. Her uniform was turning a few heads and she was pondering waiting outside when the bartender, a pink-haired young woman with a pair of angel wings stuck to her back, called out to her over the heads of two customers waiting for their orders.

“Hey, you Starfleet?”

Michael stepped up to the counter, hoping she wasn’t about to be kicked out. “That I am.”

The music suddenly stopped, and in a few moments conversations were petering out as people turned towards the bar, wondering what was going on.

“We’ve got Starfleet in the house, everyone,” the bartender shouted out in a slightly accented English. “You know what that means?”

Michael tensed and turned towards the exit but before she could move, everyone who could was whistling loudly and she was grabbed and hoisted up on her back by countless hands.

“HIP HIP HURRAY!” the bartender yelled, and the hands and arms holding her up were throwing her in the air - and did so two more times as everyone joined in the cheering. 

Just as suddenly as she’d been picked up, she was put down again; she was still tottering on her feet trying to understand what had just happened when the crowd started chanting “STAR-FLEET, STAR-FLEET, STAR-FLEET” over and over again, and a shower of something sticky and sweet hit the back of her head - and then her face when instinct made her turn her around.

“Thank you for your service, Officer,” the young woman cheerfully said, shaking the last drops of the champagne bottle she’d just poured on Michael. “We owe you and your comrades our lives.”

Michael was about to suggest a different way to offer their thanks when someone shouted “more Starfleet!” and she looked over her shoulders to find her friends crowding the entrance. The chanting returned and she watched them getting swept up in the air as swiftly as she had been. Poor Saru looked both confused and terrified (Michael probably had, too), Airiam intrigued, but all the others (Tilly, Stamets, Detmer, Owosekun, Bryce and Rhys) seemed to take it in their stride. They had all gone through so much darkness and grief - the joy in the room was putting joy in their hearts and Michael was glad. At least until she found herself wishing for Captain Lorca to be here, too.

With everyone appropriately soaked in alcohol, the music returned and the pink-haired pretend angel was off to get their drinks ready, with the crowd returning to their own conversations. Saru was the first to noticed the insignia and it did feel wonderful to be embraced by her friends, especially Detmer, and the warm squeeze of the Kelpien’s hand on her shoulder felt like a blessing. 

And again the joy was almost immediately tempered by an insidious voice determined to ask questions about Lorca. As if she had any answers to give…

Fortunately the good news about her reinstatement and the medals they were to receive looked reason enough for the emotions on her face to her friends, and Michael had never been talkative so her relative quiet wasn’t out of place. To keep her mind off the wrong kind of thoughts, she busied herself with drinking the sometimes sweet, sometimes tangy but always colourful beverages that kept coming her way. When a sudden wave of dizziness hit her as she looked for the facilities, she asked Tilly what she had been drinking.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” Tilly replied gleefully. “I think about half the cocktail menu. Do you like them? I’ve had better but -”

“Cock-tails? As in… alcohol?” Michael had never found it hard to speak before. Or felt like she might be floating in zero-grav while on solid ground.

“As in alcohol - lots of it - WOOO!” the Ensign hollered, raising her current glass in the air. Bryce and Rhys responded in kind and Michael thought it weird, because it was too noisy for them to have heard Tilly talk about what she was talking about, and why would you join in when you didn’t know what it was about? And why was Michael having so many thoughts at once? The need to rid herself of some of what she had consumed brought some order to her thoughts.

“Tilly -”

“Oh hang on,” she answered, peering at the drinks menu, “I don’t think we’ve tried this one yet -”

“TILLY, I NEED TO GO TO THE BATHROOM.”

The redhead’s eyes went from Michael’s grip on her forearm to her face. “Okay…”

“I think I’m drunk. I’ve never been drunk before.” Tilly gaped at her. “I think if I try to come off this stool by myself, I might fall down. Do… you… understand?”

“Shit - yeah, of course. C’mon, lean on me -”

Michael slipped off her stool and would have tripped over her own legs if Tilly hadn’t been holding her. She ignored Stamets’ smirk as she and Tilly staggered towards the facilities.

“Are you feeling sick? Are you going to puke?”

She didn’t answer Tilly and instead dived for the first stall she saw. She didn’t feel about to vomit, although the world tipping left and right around her was making her feel slightly nauseous. Perhaps it was evacuating some of the liquor (although it didn’t seem right that it could move through her kidney and to her bladder this fast), or perhaps it was just sitting down again, somewhere a little quiet, but after a few minutes Michael felt steadier and a little more like herself.

“ - and so that was the first time I was technically drunk, even though I hadn’t had a drop to drink. Fumes, huh? But my parents had no idea, they were too upset about me burning half my hair,” Tilly said, washing her hands. Michael belatedly realised that she had been talking the whole time, including the time she had spent tending to her own needs. 

“Why do people do it?” Michael barked. She washed her hands, splashed some water on her face. “It’s awful. I can barely keep my balance. I keep having thoughts that don’t feel like my thoughts.”

“You are experiencing the human mind-melt.”

“The what?” Tilly grinned. Why was she not getting that Michael wasn’t enjoying this at all? “Are you drunk, too?”

“The human mind-melt: When you get drunk and lose control of your mind.”

“Again - why would anyone want to do that?”

“Well, it’s probably like what ancient people used to do - you know - magic mushrooms, mescaline, nutmeg - to alter their consciousness so they could have ‘visions.’”

Michael wanted to ask about nutmeg (Amanda used to love cooking her spinach with it) but she was more sceptical about Tilly’s other claims. “Have you ever had visions when drunk?”

“Stupid ideas, plenty - visions, nope. But my point is that people drink to get out of their minds. Mine is such a jumble half the time, it’s nice sometimes to just let it all out.” When have you ever kept anything in? Michael wondered. “And also sometimes I think it does bring a certain kind of clarity. If anyone ever tells you “I’m sorry, I was drunk”, that’s garbage. It’s not the alcohol that makes you do or say things. All the alcohol does is give you permission to do it.”

“That sounds pretty dangerous.”

“Many emergency room personnel would agree with you there.” 

“Clarity? So why am I feeling so confused?” 

“You’re not drunk enough. We can do something about that easily enough.”

If she was being advised to try fasting and meditation, Michael would have no problem considering it. Perhaps it was worth a try.


	5. Binary Star System

V. Binary Star System

“Something wrong with your meal, _Monsieur _?”__

__Lorca looked up from his plate of _boeuf stroganoff sur un lit de riz sauvage et d’asperges _to find his waiter watching him with an anxious face. They had made quite a fuss of him when he had first stepped into this restaurant because of his Starfleet uniform - which he was appreciative of but still not the quiet and dark corner he had been looking for. He knew he should have got back to his Starfleet quarters but the opportunities for freshly-cooked Earth dishes didn’t come by all that often so there he was, and it had been too late to turn back by the time his cheeks had been vigorously kissed by a crying grandmother whose great-grandson was apparently serving with Starfleet.___ _

____“Meal’s fine, thanks. Delicious,” he answered. “It’s the customer that’s letting you down.”_ _ _ _

____Lorca tried a reassuring smile but the waiter didn’t seem reassured. He realised he had been mostly pushing the food around around his plate so he resumed eating with what he hoped was enthusiasm. The food was good but he found it hard to enjoy, his thoughts forced to consider what he would have to tell his crew about his resignation. He was pretty sure Michael wouldn’t tell them but he had to be prepared for the possibility that she would._ _ _ _

____He also needed to apologise to her and the words for that were even harder to find. He owed her truth and honesty always, but some truths couldn’t be shared. Once he’d left Starfleet he didn’t expect to ever see her again and he didn’t want them to part on sour terms. Michael cared about him - that was the only thing Lorca wanted to take with him into retirement - but he was now running the risk of making her regret it._ _ _ _

____He’d never been a thinker. He wasn’t good at dwelling and pondering. So it was little wonder it was now getting in his way of his dinner. What he needed was less thinking. What he needed was not food, but drink._ _ _ _

____He finished his meal as quickly as good manners would allow him to, thanked the staff and other customers for their welcome, and went looking for the nearest bar._ _ _ _

____He didn’t have to go far: around the corner was what seemed like a basement bar, and if the noise coming up the steps was anything to go by, he was confident that La Divine Comédie would be busy and dark enough to let him have a few beers in peace._ _ _ _

____As loud as the combination of talking and music had sounded by the entrance, it really was nothing compared to the wall of sound that hit Lorca’s ears as he reached the bar floor. He winced at the brightness of the bar counter, feeling somewhat punished by the universe for wanting a drink, but his progress through the crowds to reach it was long enough that he could stand it with only a little discomfort by the time he got there. He was still standing at the counter, only a few sips into his first bottle, when a hand landed on his shoulders and a warm breath wafting with the smell of alcohol was in his ear._ _ _ _

____“You come here often?”_ _ _ _

____Lorca groaned and turned to face Paul Stamets. “First and last time,” he shouted out so Stamets could hear him. “Is it just you here?”_ _ _ _

____The Engineer shook his head. “Unlike you I’ve got friends, Captain.” Lorca gave him a sceptical look. “Commander Saru ran away pretty fast - didn’t like the noise - but everyone else is here.”_ _ _ _

____“Didn’t mean to bust your party - I’ll go.”_ _ _ _

____“Don’t run off as well, Captain! Finish your beer at least.” Stamets gestured to the bartender to refill his glass then leaned closer to Lorca - closer than Lorca was comfortable with. “Hardly a party, anyway. More letting off some steam. Same as you.”_ _ _ _

____“Mind you don’t blow off too much,” he reminded the Lieutenant. “You got a medal ceremony coming up and I’m not getting you out of the drunk tank for it.”_ _ _ _

____“Aye, aye, Captain. Can’t talk for Burnham, though. She’s pretty drunk already.” He drained half the contents of his newly refilled glass in one gulp. “Did you know she’d never been drunk before? Not sure she’s even had much alcohol.”_ _ _ _

____Lorca had to stop himself from looking over Stamets’ shoulder, to try and catch a glimpse of her. “Is she all right?”_ _ _ _

____“Hard to say. You’d think a drunk Vulcan would be funny, right -”_ _ _ _

____“She’s not Vulcan,” he snapped._ _ _ _

____Stamets raised his free hand in apology. “Anyway, she’s mostly just sitting there, looking a bit angry, talking to Tilly. Like, a lot, because I haven’t seen Tilly say much back. What did you do this time?”_ _ _ _

____“I haven’t done anything -”_ _ _ _

____“Burnham gets pardoned, a medal, her rank back. And she seems miserable, even by Burnham standards. So what else is going on that could be getting her down? Gotta be you. It’s always you.”_ _ _ _

____“Is there any version of you that’s not an asshole, Stamets?”_ _ _ _

____“Could ask you the same thing.”_ _ _ _

____“I know we’re off duty, Lieutenant, but don’t take too many liberties.” Lorca took a couple of large gulps of his drink; he wasn’t quite finished but he needed to go - the universe was really out to punish him. “Make sure Burnham’s ok, all right? That’s an order.”_ _ _ _

____He didn’t wait for an answer from Stamets and started to leave. He’d nearly reached the bottom of the steps when an explosion of red almost barrelled into him. With a fling of her head, Ensign Tilly whipped her hair back, then smiled brightly._ _ _ _

____“Captain, am I glad to see you!”_ _ _ _

____Lorca looked behind him to Stamets, who was just putting his communicator away, a smug grin on his face. _Son of a bitch - _____ _ _

______“Ensign - I was just on my way out -”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But it’s Michael, sir - I mean, Commander Burnham - she’s pretty drunk - although she’s not had that much to drink, I swear - she’s kinda upset about something but she won’t say what, not really, and I didn’t know what to do but then she saw you and -”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lorca grabbed hold of her flailing arms. “ENSIGN.” Tilly froze. “Please look after her. But I can’t help.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“But when she saw you..” She petered out._ _ _ _ _ _

______“What about when she saw me?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“She smiled. BIG smile. She hardly ever smiles as it is, you know, and then wow - just. Lit up the room.” Tilly tilted her head to her left, urging Lorca to look. Michael, flanked by Rhys on her side that didn’t have Tilly in it, was watching him._ _ _ _ _ _

______She looked mad as hell._ _ _ _ _ _

______“You sure about that, Ensign?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Tilly looked at Michael in turn. “Oh. Well, my point still stands.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Which is?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______She was about to glare at him and then seemed to remember who he was. “There’s a lot of feelings there.” She waved her hand in front of him. “Around you. What did you do?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lorca was starting to wonder what he’d done to deserve such an insubordinate crew. Was it Michael’s influence? “Why does everyone keep saying that?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Really? Who else said it? Never mind,” she added quickly when he glared at her. “Look, I’m sorry, sir. I don’t mean to pry. Or whatever. But the evidence is impossible to ignore. You’ve given her feelings of some kind. You don’t give a Vulcan-raised person feelings and then leave them to it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You don’t need to be Vulcan or Vulcan-raised to have a problem processing your emotions, Ensign.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Yep, true,” Tilly replied, pursing her lips, her eyes not leaving his. “Very true.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Lorca looked at Michael again. She was still looking unhappy, although less angry; she raised her glass to her lips, realised it was empty, and stood up - or at least tried to. She tilted sideways as she tried to move around the table and went stumbling to the floor, in spite of Rhys’s best attempt to catch her. None of her other crewmates moved to help her - they were too busy laughing - and even Tilly was stifling a snigger._ _ _ _ _ _

______Ah, crap._ _ _ _ _ _

______He barged his way through other patrons, and it was Bryce and Okosekun’s turn to tumble a little as they tried to stand to attention when they saw Lorca. He barked a curt “as you were” as he leaned down and lifted Michael off the floor. Unfortunately she wasn’t keen on being helped and he almost ended up on the floor with her when their legs tangled while he tried to usher her towards the exit._ _ _ _ _ _

______“I don’t need help!” she yelped in his face at the bottom of the stairs._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Get up these steps and out of here without falling flat on your face, and I might believe you.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael glared at him and Lorca cursed himself for finding the fierceness of her gaze far too endearing. Then she yanked her arms out of his grip and started to climb. Within moments she had to slump against the wall to support herself as she tried to get what little momentum she had to make it to the top. She might have made it, too, if it wasn’t for a burst of over-confidence that made her turn her head and smirk at him - and, twisting around as she did, she was toppling backwards and straight into him. He stumbled down one step, grabbed her waist to steady her, her own arms flying around his neck for purchase. Neither of them moved as they worked to get the breath back that they’d knocked out of each other. He could feel the quickness of her pulse where the skin of her wrist met that of his throat. She shivered against him and he prepared to let her go but her own grip on him tightened, doing nothing to calm his breathing. Slowly, he moved one hand to her back and that hand up her spine until he was almost cradling her head._ _ _ _ _ _

______They didn’t get to stay that way for long as a couple of people coming down the stairs bumped their elbows into Michael’s ribs as they got past. Lorca might have told them to watch their steps but the truth was, they were lucky it had been strangers going in and not their crewmates walking out. He pulled away from Michael and lifted up her face with a finger on her chin to check she was all right._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Michael? Please let me help you -”_ _ _ _ _ _

______One of her hands moved to his own face, her fingers moving over his cheek as though they were looking for something. “The human mind-melt isn’t as good as the Vulcan mind-meld.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Michael?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Getting drunk: the human mind-melt. That’s what Tilly called it. Vulcan mind-meld is better. At least I’d know what the hell you’re thinking.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______That explained the weird thing she was doing with her fingers. Lorca had seen how Vulcans positioned their fingers in specific ways to establish telepathic connections._ _ _ _ _ _

______“Knowledge and understanding are two different things,” he replied curtly._ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael stepped back a little to look at him. “You’re really smart. I know you like to pretend you’re not, but you are.”  
“I don’t think it’d take much to impress you right now, Burnham.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Always with the evasive maneuvers, Captain. Master tactician, aren’t you?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“You’re one to talk. Or not, in fact.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______Michael giggled and just like that, what seemed to be building up to an argument was gone. In its place was something else. Something that felt like…_ _ _ _ _ _

______“We’d best not talk, then,” she said. “Since neither of us are good at it.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______“Seems logical.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______...Flirtation._ _ _ _ _ _

______Lorca swallowed. This was ridiculous. He’d never had any problem reading women’s signals before and now he was doubting himself. There was a darkening in Michael’s eyes that was pulling him towards her, and the way she glanced at his mouth made him lick his lips before he realised what he was doing. She wanted to kiss him._ _ _ _ _ _

_______She’s drunk. She doesn’t mean it _.___ _ _ _ _ _

_________Who cares? She wants to kiss you - let her _.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________It’s not right - _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________It’s gonna hurt exactly zero people. _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________It might hurt her - _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Michael made the decision for him. She froze in front of him before her eyes widened with a sudden realisation. His own came a moment too late and he closed his eyes as she vomited all over him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“I’m sorry - sorry -” she gulped. “I’m ok -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“You’re not,” he replied, holding her steady as she retched again, splattering the remaining contents of her stomach on the both of them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________After a few moments and a bit more gagging from Michael, it seemed to be over. Lorca gently curled one arm around her waist and moved one of hers to his shoulders, before encouraging her up to the steps. Once outside, he brought out his communicator and messaged both Tilly and Stamets to let the bar know some cleaning was required, then set about hailing a taxi car._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________“Please state your destination.” _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Starfleet barracks.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________“Did you mean Starfleet barracks at the Vélizy–Villacoublay Air Base?” _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________“Yes, that’s the one.” He hadn’t been willing to even try mangling the pronunciation of that._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________“Please board the vehicle and ensure seatbelts are fastened _.” He had just finished settling a groaning Michael into the back seat when the car computer piped up again. “ _One passenger seems unwell. Please confirm _.”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“She’s fine, just drunk, and she’s already been sick so you don’t have to worry -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“I’m not so sure about that, Captain,” Michael ground out through clenched teeth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________“ _Please note that we are not permitted to transport passengers whose health is impaired. You must seek medical help first. I can call paramedics for you, or you can use public transportation. _”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“She’s just drunk,” Lorca repeated. “I am travelling with her. I’ll look after her.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________“ _Are you a medical professional? _”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“Yes,” he lied without hesitation._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________“ _Please state your identity and qualifications _.” He swore loudly. “ _I note that you are becoming emotionally agitated. Shall I call for help _?”_____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“No, no, we don’t need help. How am I supposed to get back to our quarters, then? Trains don’t get us that far.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“ _Please note that we are not permitted to transport passengers whose health is impaired. You must seek medical help first. I can call paramedics for you, or you can use public transportation _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“We don’t need paramedics.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“ _Please note that we are not permitted to transport passengers whose health is impaired. You must seek medical help first. I can call paramedics for you, or you can use public transportation. Please exit the vehicle _,” the computer finished - with what sounded like an angry beep.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________With a groan of his own, Lorca extracted Michael from the vehicle. He could drag her through the metro system and onto a train and then on the last miles on foot to the barracks but the thought of doing so struck him as ridiculous. It’s not like they were expected on parade in the morning; they were not on duty and would not need to report to anyone in the morning. He pulled his communicator from his pocket again and looked up the nearest hotel. There was a fairly basic establishment a few minutes’ walk away: probably their best chance of being offered rooms, given the state - and smell - of their appearance._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________They made their stumbling way to what he thought would be something like a hostel but instead turned out to be a tiny hotel that had been left looking mostly the way it had been before World War 3: a dim entrance and hallway, richly carpeted and wood panelling on the walls, leading to a reception desk that was almost tucked under a narrow staircase that climbed steeply to many floors above. A dark-skinned middle-aged man, dressed very primly, looked up from the PADD he was reading; his smile faded somewhat when he took in the sight of them, his attention lingering on Michael in particular._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________“ _Monsieur, Madame, bonsoir _,” he nodded.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________“ _Bonsoir, Monsieur _,” Lorca managed before reverting to English. “Claude, is it?” he asked, peering at his nametag.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Yes, sir.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“ _Monsieur Claude _, would you -”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Just Claude, sir.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“Right. Claude, we need a room for the night. Twin beds, or two single rooms.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________Claude gave Michael a cautious look. She tried a nonchalant smile on him, but it only made her look a little unhinged. “Is Madame feeling quite well?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________“ _Je me sens très bien, merci. Juste un peu trop bu, c’est tout. Nous sommes des officiers de Starfleet, c’est la fin de la guerre - _” She raised a fist.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________“ _Ah bien sûr, ça se comprend. Et les taxis refusent de vous ramener chez vous _?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________“ _Exactement cela, oui _.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________________“ _Et ça ne vous dérange pas de partager une chambre avec cette homme _?”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________________“ _Je mettrais ma vie dans ses mains _,” she replied, a solemn look on her face.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________________________“ _Très bien _. Monsieur, Madame, your room is on the fifth floor. Lift is this way and to the right. Here’s your key card. If you leave your uniforms outside your door, I shall have them laundered for the morning.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Merci,” Lorca said to Claude, still staring at Michael._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“My mother was from Haiti,” she explained in the elevator as she slumped against the back of the cabin. “French-speaking. Plus I did a semester at the Sorbonne when I was completing my Starfleet training.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“One day I’ll find something you can’t do, Burnham,” he murmured._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Can’t hold my drink, apparently,” she replied, eyelids drooping, a small smile on her face. He had to catch her when the elevator reached the fifth floor less smoothly than they were used to. She smiled again, looking embarrassed this time, but she put a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as they looked for their room._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Hope you don’t mind us sharing,” he said, realising a little late that he hadn’t thought to ask her. “I just want to make sure you’re ok.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“That’s what Claude asked me downstairs. I think he was worried you might take advantage.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________Lorca froze. “Holy sh- I would never - never -”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________Michael squeezed his shoulder. “I know. And I told him so.” He felt her looking at him as he fumbled with the key card, then stepped aside to let her into the room. “Maybe it’s you he should worry about.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________Don’t do it, Gabe. Shut your mouth. She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“You can barely put one foot in front of the other. Pretty sure you can’t remove your own jacket, let alone mine. I’ll take my chances. Lights, dim,” he called out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Is that what you think?” She leaned against the desk and reached for her zip. After a few moments’ unsuccessful struggle, she pouted at him. “This is embarrassing.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________Lorca grinned. “That ship sailed when you threw up on me, Commander.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________She turned to look towards the window and the lights of Paris gleaming through the gauzy curtains. The sudden quiet made him uncomfortable so he busied himself with getting some water for her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“In vino veritas, in aqua sanitas,” he told her, handing her a cup of water. “Did you only drink Earth alcohol?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“I think so. Why?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Replicated a hangover patch. If you put that on your arm, it should take care of most of what you’re probably starting to feel.” He indicated the bathroom. “I can unzip your jacket and pop open your pants - there are bathrobes in there. We can see if Claude is true to his word.” She nodded. “You’re sure?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Ok. Sit down a minute, I’ll take off your boots, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________Michael did as she was told. He kneeled on the floor in front of her and removed her footwear, then straightened so he could do as he had offered to with her uniform. He found her staring at him when he was done. Without a word she reached for his collar and, with only a minimum of fumbling, pulled the zip, opening his jacket._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Look at that,” she mumbled._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________It would be so easy to kiss her. To remove her jacket completely, her undershirt. Pull down her pants over her hips, her underwear. Bury himself between her legs until she’d have to grab his hair and wrench him off of her._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“Do you think it’s true, too? What you said - in vino veritas.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________“I think the more drunk you are, the worse the hangover,” he croaked. “Patch or no patch.” He stood up, feeling suddenly angry. “I’ll get you a bathrobe, you can get changed here. I’ll wait in the bathroom.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________They didn’t speak again. When, after a few minutes’ waiting, she didn’t answer his call, he popped his head out of the bathroom and called her name again. Soft snoring was the only answer he got._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________She had fallen asleep, but thankfully had managed to put on the bathrobe and remove most of the clothing that needed removing. He tugged at the bit of uniform pants stuck over her ankle until it was properly off, then tightened her bathrobe close and maneuvered her under the bedsheets._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________________________It didn’t take long for him to remove his own uniform, leave both outside the room, and climbed into bed. He fell asleep on his side, watching her back and the gentle rise and fall of her breathing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


	6. Awakenings

  1. **Awakenings**



The first thing Michael became aware of as she woke up was sunlight: warm yellow beams bright enough to pierce through her eyelids and slowly stir her back to consciousness. She pulled her covers over her face but still the light persisted. She opened her eyes to try and blink the brightness away, only to suddenly feel like her head was in a vice. She screwed her eyes shut again and rolled over - and felt like her whole body was a raft on turbulent water. She tasted bile in her mouth and her throat hurt, too - raw and parched.

Michael had escaped the light but pain and discomfort were now doing a better job of rousing her. Full awareness of where she was and how she had got there came bursting to the forefront of her mind, making her groan and even less willing to come out of the wonderful cocoon she found herself in. Thirst, exacerbated by the delicious warmth of her bed, was what eventually made her slowly crawl out and sit-up - and then it was the need to use the bathroom. She staggered to her feet and managed to make it there without falling over. Having relieved herself, she made herself slowly drink two small glasses of water. She splashed water on her face then turned to the small replicator next to the door. She called up a sonic toothbrush and painkillers. What was it that Lorca had replicated for her last night -

Captain Lorca.

Was he still here? She’d been in too much of a hurry to go to the toilet to pay attention.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink, as though it was the woman there who had got drunk and then vomited on her captain, who’d behaved like a petulant child when he was only trying to help her.

Who had got very close to kissing him.   

Who had loved the feel of his arms around her.

Who would have been perfectly fine with being taken advantage of by him.

_Can you be taken advantage of if you_ want _to be taken advantage of?_

“Just listen to yourself, Michael Burnham,” she mumbled. “You’re a mess.”

In that sense, then, her drunken self did seem an accurate representation of her true self.

Michael cleaned her teeth, changed her patch and stepped into the shower. She hesitated between sonic and real shower, then opted for water. Sonic showers were relaxing but she needed to feel last night wash off her.

She’d heard that consuming a large quantity of alcohol could leave people with a certain amount of memory loss, but she wondered if that was a lie and simply an excuse people used not to take responsibility for what they might have done or said, which is something Tilly said often happened. She could see the appeal of doing that now, certainly: she could pretend that whatever she’d felt last night was all just a bad dream and that she wasn’t really in love with Gabriel Lorca.

She sighed. She should have known better: you shouldn’t ask questions if there’s a risk you might not like the answer. Except, of course, that asking questions and seeking answers was like breathing to her. The truth, no matter how uncomfortable, was always simpler to manage, even if simple did not equate to easy. Whether Lorca had stayed or left, she was going to have to face him again at some point. More importantly, and regardless of Lorca, Michael needed to come to terms with what it all meant for herself. She needed to consider facts logically and now that her headache and nausea were almost gone it would be easier to do so.

She kneeled down and sat on her heels, steepling her fingers together, eyes closing, breath slowing.

_Premise: you love him_

_Rebuttal: you thought you loved Ash, too_

_Facts: this feels different from what you felt for Ash. It is stronger. Deeper. The prospective loss of him leaves what feels like a hole in your chest. You have not missed Ash once. You are missing Lorca already and he is not even gone yet._

_Rebuttal: These are not facts. They are feelings._

_Counter-Rebuttal: Feelings are real, whether they relate to objective reality or not. It is a fact you feel that way._

_Question: why do you love him?_

Michael opened her eyes, her breathing quickening. She calmed and centred herself again.

_Answer: there is a connection between us, whose very nature precludes a precise factual description. It is not unlike what you understand a Vulcan bond between mates to be. You_ know _him, he knows_ you. _Better than anyone else ever has. Better than you know yourself. When he looks at you, you feel strong. He’s never tried to change you. He’s never pitied you. He helped you find meaning in your life again when you could not._

_Hypothesis: you are experiencing something akin to transference or infatuation. Your feelings are real but not genuinely rooted in anything other than who he is to you, and therefore not in_ who _he is._

_Answer: I have seen him at his worst. I have been angry with him. He can be impulsive and childish. Petty, even -_

A knock on the bathroom door startled her out of her thoughts - a sure sign that she had not been able to reach the meditative state she was hoping for.

“Burnham?” called a gruff voice. “You ok in there?”

That answered that particular question at least. She stood up - a little too fast - checked her bathrobe was on properly - and unlocked the door after another deep breath.

Lorca winced and stepped back as the bright light from the bathroom flooded out. Michael scrambled to adjust the light with a mumbled apology, which he waved away. He was wearing his Starfleet-issued under clothes like she was (a dark blue t-shirt and black, skin-tight shorts-like underwear that went almost halfway down your thighs), a dark bundle in his arms.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better than when I first woke up, thank you, sir. That patch last night really helped, I think.”

“Have you changed it?”

“Yes.”

He nodded then handed her part of what he had been carrying, which turned out to be their clean uniforms. “Good old Claude,” he said. “I kinda need to use the bathroom. You mind getting dressed out there while I’m in here?”

Michael had seen Lorca tired, injured or furious, but never… tousled before. He looked much cuter than a man his age or rank should.

_Cute? Maybe infatuation isn’t so far off the mark_.

“Of course not, sir - thank you.”

She got dressed as quickly as she could, then saw that her communicator light was blinking. Opening it, she found a multitude of messages from Tilly that made gradually less and less sense but still asked how and where she was, and one from Stamets asking if there was any chance she had taken a picture of Lorca covered in vomit (how did he even know about that?).

_To: Tilly, Sylvia (Ensign)_

_From: Burnham, Michael (Commander)_

_Ensign - thank you for your concern. I am fine. I will be returning to barracks shortly. I will also remind you that this particular message channel is for Starfleet matters only._

_To: Stamets, Paul (Lieutenant)_

_From: Burnham, Michael (Commander)_

_Lieutenant - I now outrank you._

Out of habit and with nothing else to do, she made both their beds and folded the bathrobes on top, then went to the window to have a look outside. It wasn’t quite eight o’clock in the morning and the sun was shining in a sky empty of clouds. Below her, vehicles glided sickly and quietly over cobblestones still wet from the night’s rain, and somewhere above her, birds chirped and cooed as they flapped their wings. Just a few blocks away rose all the towers built in the ruins of the last great war to be fought on Earth but from where she was she could also see the spires of Notre-Dame cathedral, and although many of the buildings closest to them had required renovating and rebuilding, they had kept their original appearance. There was something quite homely and comforting about it; perhaps it reminded her of Vulcan, whose architecture was stark yet alive with intent and history. Much of what housed and sheltered the human race these days had a strong utilitarian bend, grown as it had out of rubbles and urgency.

Michael closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and the smell of freshly baked bread drifting up through the air. When an unexpected shiver ran through her spine, she turned around. Lorca, hair still a little damp and freshly shaved, was watching her as he finished putting on his boots.

“Looks like a nice day,” he said, after a long moment’s silence.

“Yes.” She stood a little straighter. “I need to apologise about last night, sir. It was conduct entirely unbecoming of an officer.”

“Unbecoming but not unusual. Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry your evening was cut short. Shall we go?”

The short and shaky elevator ride was silent. Claude was unfortunately not on duty to be thanked so they had to leave a note for him. As they stood outside waiting for a taxi car and Lorca crossed the road to the bakery opposite, Michael struggled to contain her emotions.  

_This is how the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper_.

She chastised herself almost immediately. It was hardly the end of the world, metaphorically or otherwise. It was just life. But that’s how it was going to be for them now: from frank honesty to uncomfortable silence. Just as well he was leaving, then.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked,” he said when he returned, opening a bag that seemed to contain a dozen variety of pastries and carrying a tray with a couple cups of coffee. She didn’t feel like eating yet she was hungry, so she gamely plucked something from the bag: an almond croissant. She didn’t like coffee first thing in the morning and settled for simply holding the cup and taking a few tiny sips. A car soon pulled up alongside them and they climbed in.  

“You still feeling all right?” Lorca asked after a couple of turns.

“Yes.”

“Sometimes a car ride isn’t the best with a hangover.”

“I’m fine.”

“Ok.”

It was probably rude not to look at him but it was easier right now. Keeping her eyes looking at Paris outside the car window, she had the feeling that he was watching her, not unlike the way he had been back at the hotel.

“I mean it, you know,” he suddenly said. “Last night. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

With a deep breath, Michael turned to look at him at last. “I know. I appreciate it, sir.”

“Ok.”

She turned back to the car window. Next to her, Lorca started to drum his fingers on the car door panel. Maybe it was whatever hangover she had after all, or the remains of alcohol in her bloodstream, but the sharp tapping sound was like a �wedge that splintered something open inside her. With a growing anger came a strange sensation of liberation. There was nothing logical or rational in it but it felt too wonderful to stop. The car turned onto the _Pont de Sully_ , heading north.

“Computer, stop the car.”

“Burnham?”

“ _You have not reached your destination_.”

“Computer, stop the car.”

“Hey, Burnham -”

Fortunately, she was on the sidewalk-side of the car and getting out was easy. She had to get away before she threw her still full cup of hot coffee in his face. Drinking alcohol really was nothing like meditation. She wasn’t left floating calmly, she was being swept away in a torrent. Without looking behind her or responding to Lorca’s calls, she entered a small park. Within just a few steps she was on a narrow, tree-lined path, surrounded by neatly trimmed lawns and colourful arrangements of mass plantings. As it turned out it was more of a public garden than a park because in only a few moments she’d reached the end of it, a sharp point that split the Seine into two streams. Now she realised they had been crossing one of the river’s many islands ( _Île Saint-Louis_ , she realised, when she turned around and spotted Notre-Dame behind her, too far to make this _Île de la Cité_ ).

While Michael was getting her bearings, Lorca had caught up with her, looking concerned.

"What’s wrong? Was the food a bad idea?”

And there it was again. She’d seen that look on his face before - quite a few times recently. An odd hesitancy. Reaching out while holding back. He was keeping his distance from her. She could see why, after last night, and she felt embarrassed all over again. But why did he have to be here, too? It was not a logical way to keep her at arms’ length -

It occurred to her that all this time she had only been considering her feelings, and only made assumptions about his.

“What are we doing, sir?”

Lorca opened his mouth then closed it again. “I wanna say we were returning to barracks but you look more angry than confused. So…”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” He nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “Can we skip the bullshit and have an actual conversation?”

His eyebrows shot up. “You still drunk, Burnham?”

“‘It doesn’t matter,’” Michael retorted, ignoring him. “How can you say that?”

“I meant - last night. What happened.I knew you’d be feeling bad about it -”

“Yes, I do feel bad about it. And you know what else I feel bad about? That after everything we’ve been through together, you are leaving without so much as a word.”

“That’s not true,” he protested. “We talked about it -”

“ _You_ talked. Didn’t do much listening. Here’s what I want to talk about now. I want to talk about how you took care of me last night. About how you held me up as I was sick all over you, and then carried me over what felt like half of Paris. About waking up this morning and finding you still there. And you're still here, having found some breakfast for me, and chased after me when I ran out on you.” She crossed her arms. “That's some serious pastoral care, Captain.”

Lorca’s shoulders dropped. He stepped past Michael to stand looking out at the river, hands gripping at the garden railings. She joined him there. Below them, waves churned by a cruise boat thwacked against the stone bricks that lined the island’s perimeter.

"What do you want me to say?” he asked eventually.

“The truth. You keep telling me how much you owe me. Here’s your chance to prove it.”

“You’re a hard-headed woman, Burnham.”

She ignored his attempt at deflection again. “It’s _me_ , Captain. In the middle of Paris, in a deserted public garden. We’ve survived worse. What have you got to lose?”

“A lot, actually,” he said softly. “I’ve been going through the motions for a long time, you know. Tarsus IV... Changed a lot of things for me. And then losing the _Buran_ , and my crew. I could not have failed them more. Most days I wake up and they are the first things I think of.” Lorca paused, swallowed hard. “But having nothing - for a while it was freeing. It meant the war and how to end it was all I had to think about. Except one day I realised that Discovery had _become_ my crew. And that a lot of that was down to you. So I think it's time I counted my blessings and left. Because now I've got it back, I don't know if I could stand losing it all again.”

She wasn’t quite sure what to say at first. She had gone through the same thing. Did he not see that?

“But if you walk away, isn't that the same as losing it? Isn’t that leaving your crew behind again?”

“That’s not fair, Michael -”

“No,” she agreed immediately. “It’s not but it’s what it feels like. And it’s not more unfair than what you said about Ash last night.”

Lorca bit his lip. “Yeah. I need to apologise about that.”

When he stopped there, Michael raised a questioning eyebrow. “That was the apology, was it?”

“Had the word ‘apologise’, didn’t it?”

In spite of herself, she grinned. He seemed to catch the smile out of the corner of his eye, because he turned his head to look at her. He looked pleased with himself and smiled a little, too. It made her heart skip. With some nervousness, she gently laid one hand over his.

He glanced down as she ran her thumb over the top of his hand. “What are you doing, Michael?”

“I asked you first. You haven't really answered. What are **_we_ ** doing?”

Lorca, still staring at her hand, spread open his fingers; she slipped hers through them. He looked back at her, his gaze as intense as she had ever seen it - tormented and hopeful at the same time.

“I wanna be a friend to you, an ally. Because you need that, and you deserve it. Last nightI wanted to make you sure you’d be all right. But the truth is… I’m here because I want to be, OK?” he croaked. “I want to be wherever you are.”

“I'm going to be on Discovery,” Michael replied. “And I want you there. So where are you going to be?”

“Somewhere I'm not making a fool of myself pining for the smartest, most beautiful, most incredible woman I know,” he snapped, snatching his fingers from hers.”Feel free to report me for harassment, I'm leaving anyway -

Later, Michael would describe what she did next as something akin to ‘losing her mind.’ There was a kind of blinding out of all thoughts, and only joy left. She grabbed his lapel, pulled him towards her and kissed him. After what felt like too brief a touch of his lips, he pulled back, shock and awe on his face.

“Don’t leave me,” Michael whispered, reaching out to cusp his jaw.

He shook his head, still looking awed, and then was kissing her as suddenly as she had kissed him. His arms went around her waist, hauling her against his chest and onto her toes. Her own arms went around his neck, her fingers grasping for purchase in his short hair. She opened his mouth to him, lost her thoughts again at the feel of his grip on her. It should have hurt but instead didn’t feel hard enough.

They broke apart eventually, just enough to get their breath back. Even then, they took turns stealing kisses from each other, Lorca moving from her lips to her cheek and then throat, Michael pulling his face back to hers, holding it in her hands as she kissed him in turn.

The next time they parted, it wasn’t through choice. Sharp beeping from both their communicators startled them out of their embrace. Barking out a curse, one arm still around Michael, he flipped his open and scowled.

“An intel update,” he groaned. “Back at Headquarters.”

“At least you don’t have far to go. Medical check-up and re-enlistment induction for me back at the barracks.”

“Lucky you.”

She smiled at him. “Yes. I think so.”

Lorca blinked, looking confused, then worked out she was talking about him. “Yeah, well. We’ll have to see about that.”

“I already know you’re an asshole, so - no illusions there.”

“And I know you’re a damn hard-headed woman, so there’s that to look forward to.” He kissed her forehead.

Memories of some their arguments on the bridge suddenly made Michael realise something she hadn’t considered before. Or, rather, had time to consider. She took a step back from him. “Fraternization rules. What are we going to do?”

“We’ve both broken more important rules, Michael.”

“And you didn’t learn anything from that, sir?”

Lorca grinned. “I think you can call me Gabriel now.” She felt her face flush and hated it. “Look,” he started again, still smiling but with a more serious tone, “I don’t know, either. But let’s deal with one thing at a time.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we both know this ain’t gonna be easy, even before Starfleet rules and God knows what else. We’ve given a lot, you and me. About time we took something back.”

“What did you and Amanda talk about last night?” He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Just something she said to me, that I didn’t understand at the time. About being more selfish.”

“She’s right. And I’m not saying that for the obvious reasons.”

“Okay.”

The grin was back. Michael would never have believed before that Gabriel Lorca could look so playful.

Their communicators had to beep at them twice more before they each went on their way again.


	7. EPILOGUE

**Epilogue**

“Captain on the Bridge.”

Lorca nodded to Saru. “Thank you, Commander.” He looked to Michael, Tilly and Stamets, congregated around Michael’s station, and had to refrain from letting his attention linger on his newest Science Officer. “Please take your stations. You can get back to gossiping later.”

There was a cheerful murmur around the deck. Not long ago he wouldn’t have believed that he would be so glad to be there, but then he should have known just how much can change in very little time. The last three days had gone by in a blur: there had been the medal ceremony, followed by more briefings until they had properly re-boarded a few hours ago. He hadn’t seen much of Michael alone, which was frustrating but probably, he told himself repeatedly, for the best. He was still struggling to believe that what had happened between them - was happening - was real and had decided that giving Michael a chance to come to her senses was the right thing to do. So far, from what little time they had managed to steal for themselves, she was still out of her mind.

The turbolift doors opened behind him and he swiveled around in his chair to greet Ambassador Sarek.

“Thank you, Captain Lorca, for permitting me this small indulgence. I never tire of seeing home.”

Lorca risked a glance at Michael. “I know perfectly what you mean, Ambassador. Detmer, have we cleared the Sol system?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Set course for Vulcan and engage at maximum warp.”

“Aye, sir.”

They had just entered warp when he heard Bryce’s console shrill urgently.

“Incoming transmission,” Bryce confirmed.

“Who from?”

“I have trouble identifying it. But it’s a priority one distress call.”

“Any idea on the source?”

“I’m getting a Federation ID code. It’s choppy - trying to clean it up, sir.”

“Helm, slow us down,” Lorca order Detmer.

“Dropping us out of warp now, sir.”

With normal space in front of them now, Lorca opened his own com channel. “This is Captain Lorca of the Federation starship  _ Discovery _ . Please identify yourselves.”

There was more radio static for a moment, then Bryce said, “Hail’s from Captain Pike, sir.”

Pike? Christopher Pike?

“It’s the  _ USS Enterprise _ ,” Michael said, reading his mind.

Pike. The  _ Enterprise _ . Why did that seem to ring a bell -

Spock. Sarek’s only son and Michael’s foster brother served on that ship.

He turned back towards Michael and Sarek, a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. From the look on the father and daughter’s faces, it wasn’t just him.

Nope. It was not gonna be easy.

 

**End**

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
